For Eric George it was matter over mind. A no-brainer. "I thought, who kind of bails surgeons out when they're in trouble? When the heart surgeon can't get a chest to close or something? It's the plastic surgeon."

That's how George resolved the second dilemma of his medical life: plastic or neuro surgery?

Today the erswhile inventor and refurbisher of old cars is part of a two-person hand surgery practice in Metairie, a posh suburb of New Orleans. He is married with two kids and leaves a growing trail of awards and superlatives in his wake.

But it was the first dilemma, one much more insidious and difficult to detect, that nearly rendered it all meaningless.

After arriving at Marshall with good credentials, George immediately foundered.

"I remember seeing him in histology, staring at a slide and being absolutely clueless," says Dr. Pat Brown, associate dean of academic and student affairs. "Still, he was getting C's where others were failing. I caught a glimpse of what must be phenomenal intelligence."

Nevertheless, Brown recalls summoning young George to his office for lectures about the need to apply himself to his studies.

George began to doubt himself. The vast amount of reading required was overwhelming him and his grades were slipping. "So many times I thought I wanted out -- a talk show host or a businessman, something that requires less reading."

Out of desperation, administrators sent George to Barbara Guyer, director of Marshall's higher Education for Learning Problems program (HELP). Tests soon revealed that George was dyslexic, and reading at barely a high school level.

"I remember going over the results with him, and Eric said he always thought he was mentally retarded but that if he worked hard enough o one would notice," says Guyer.

She began working intensively with George and two other medical students, thus laying the groundwork for the school's Medical H.E.L.P. Program -- the first of its kind in the nation -- which today serves medical students with a variety of learning disabilities.

Guyer convinced professors to give George extra time on tests and a quiet room to take them in. By his third year he had learned to handle his dyslexia and " just took off," says Brown.

Despite the classroom challenges, George found time for a startling array of extracurricular activities. He started a financial consulting business, fixed old cars and motorcycles for resale, invented a pair of folding, pocket-sized binoculars that he later patented and in his spare time wired friends' stereos.

"There was this perception that Eric wasn't focusing on medicine because he always had these other things going on," says Dr. Clark Adkins, a friend and classmate. "But there is no question the man worked harder in med school than anyone."

So hard, in fact, that friends began calling him "Count," as in Count Dracula, because of the late hours he kept.

It was a month-long rotation in Louisville that planted the seeds of plastic surgery. Working with some of the biggest names in the field, George was wowed by the precision of their craft and felt the flush of the immediate and very visible impact on people's lives. When he finished at Marshall he applied for and won a prestigious spot in a five-year plastic surgery program at Michigan State.

George didn't disappoint.

Dr. Lynn Hedeman, a neurosurgeon and one of George's mentors at Michigan State says: "He was probably the most sought after resident this school has ever produced."

More than just a talented surgeon, George displayed an innate ability to soothe his patients, Hedeman said. "I could always tell who Eric's patients were when I came in the door. The were relaxed and smiling."

These days his family and enormous patient load leave little time for inventions or old cars. He and his partner at Hand Surgical Associates often have as many as four surgeries in the morning, followed by 40 patients in the afternoon.

But George knows what it's like to need help. "These people become new people after I operate on them."

Back to Success Stories Listing